


Apple Juice

by KairouWatoshimi



Category: Hollywood U: Rising Stars
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:05:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairouWatoshimi/pseuds/KairouWatoshimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was all the apple juice’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Juice

**Author's Note:**

> **Original prompt from anonymous: _Can I request a story where Hunt has a dream about MC or vice versa? Sexy or not, as you prefer._**
> 
> **I’m going to apologize beforehand. This story was supposed to actually have some sort of plot but halfway through, I just gave up and went “eh, whatever”. It honestly feels more crack than anything else.**

She was dreaming.

She _had_ to have been dreaming. Because there was no other explanation for the fact that Thomas Hunt, her professor, her _extremely_ sexy asshole of a professor—Mmm, look at that _jawline_ —was standing there. Wearing that. And staring at her like she was dessert.

 _Is this what lucid dreaming feels like?_ she wondered dizzily. Because, _oh boy..._

“Jane,” he purred in a rough, sexy sort of way.

She froze.

The hell?

“No, no, no, no, no!” she said, shaking her head violently. “He doesn’t talk like that! No!”

“Jane,” he interrupted. _“Shut up.”_

She paused. _“Oh,”_ she breathed. Yes, just like that. Except he was missing his usual scowl. She wondered how far she could control this dreams of hers. _Lucid dreaming,_ she recounted, _a phenomenon in which the dreamer realizes they are in fact, dreaming. Many lucid dreamers have the ability to manipulate their dreams to their liking._

When she looked up again, he was making his way towards her, hooded eyes staring hungrily into her own. Jane took a step back, the back of her knees hitting the edge of the bed—since when was there a bed?—and she went down with an surprised yelp.

Hunt leaned over her, placing two hands on either side of her head and smirked. Breathing heavily, Jane watched as he lowered his head, breath hitching when he trailed the tip of his cool nose down the length of her neck. _Oh!_ she thought in surprise when he slid a hand underneath her shirt, splaying across the smooth plane of her stomach. _Definitely a dream; a very good dream._

Jane could feel herself _tingling_ inside.

“Wait— _wait!”_ she gasped out as his knuckle brushed against the swell of her breast—wasn’t she wearing a bra earlier?

He paused and pushed himself back off of her, eyeing her as he straightened up. Breathing deeply in an attempt to calm her racing heart, Jane pushed herself up onto her elbows. Hunt arched an eyebrow, waiting.

Jane cleared her throat. “Um,” she said, licking her lips, “could you... could you, um...”

Honestly, even Jane was not exactly sure what she wanted but Hunt seemed to know as he quirked a smirk in her direction. She watched with bated breath as his long fingers trailed up his own body, reaching to unbutton his already half-unbuttoned shirt.

 _Oh yes,_ she thought happily as he popped the first button out. Who cared how out-of-character this was? This was her dream; she did what she wanted!

His movements were teasingly slow and Jane wanted nothing more than to reach over and just rip it all off of him. But then again, how many people could say that they have gotten a strip tease from Thomas Hunt? Even if this was a dream, at least she had an amazingly vivid visual.

“Jane,” a distant voice said, sounding very much like Hunt.

She ignored it. Her breathing hitched again as he shrugged out of his shirt, exposing the subtle rise and dips of his abs. _Why hello there,_ she greeted mentally, sitting up higher for a better view. Either she had one hell of a photographic memory or she was mentally giving abs to a man who did not deserve it.

As if hearing her thoughts—he probably could, considering the circumstances—Hunt raised his eyebrow again. “More?” he asked, voice low and husky. It was doing unspeakable things to her insides and Jane wondered if her dream was a little bit _too_ vivid.

She shuddered a little. “All of it,” she finally answered.

“Jane.”

That voice again. “Go away,” she grumbled. _Don’t wake me up, don’t wake me up,_ don’t _wake me up!_ she chanted. _I’m just getting to the good part._

Almost...

Struggling against the fog threatening to cloud her mind, Jane kept her gaze firmly on Hunt’s half-naked form. He returned her gaze, hips tilting as he slowly unzipped his leather, leg-hugging pants. They were tight—so _sinfully_ tight—and she could see the outline of what appeared to be a very, _very_ impressive bulge.

 _Should have known his dick of a personality coincided with his penis size,_ she thought hazily.

Still moving in the same slow motion, he hooked his fingers around the edge of his pants and slid them down his hips. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she rolled it between her teeth and almost whimpered seeing that he left his underwear behind teasingly. _Why do I do this to myself?_ Jane questioned herself, eyelashes fluttering. _So close, so close..._

“More?” he asked again, voice amused.

She nodded, head bobbing up and down and then held her breath when he clasped the edge of his boxer briefs.

Almost—

_“Jane!”_

She woke up with a sudden jolt. “Son of a motherfucking _bitch!”_ Jane snapped, slamming a hand on the desk. _“What?”_ The resulting _crack_ echoed around the room, making everyone sitting around her jump in shock. Including Hunt.

Silence.

Then: _“Ahem,”_ he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably, not wanting to admit that for a moment, he actually feared for his life. And here he had thought his glares were vicious. “That must have been some dream,” he said as dryly as he could.

Jane could feel her face heat up in embarrassment but she forced it away. “Ooh,” she mumbled, “you have _no_ idea, Professor.” She blinked, trying to clear away the mental image of him wearing those delicious-looking, tight leather pants.

“Would you care to share with the rest of the class?” he sneered, glaring at her through narrowed eyes.

Normally she would have ducked her head and apologized because _no!_ Of course she didn’t want to share her dream—and what a dream it was!—with the class. Was he kidding her? But he _had_ just woken her up just before the good part and she was _pissed._ “Well,” she began in a tone that could only meant she was up to no good. “You were naked, for one.”

Hunt made an odd choking sound and he stared at her with wide eyes.

“Or at least getting there,” Jane continued, muttering darkly under her breath. “But then you woke me up, you see.”

“Oh man,” someone whispered from behind her. “Don’t get yourself killed, Jane. I got money invested in your life.”

Hunt opened his mouth and then closed it again.

Unwittingly, her gaze flickered downwards and she wondered if he really was as impressive as she had pictured. He had to have been an underwear model for a reason, no? Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Jane found herself wishing she had some sort of x-ray vision as she slowly trailed her gaze up and down his form.

Someone cleared their throat and realizing that she had been more or less staring at his crotch for the past couple seconds, Jane forced her gaze upwards.

—and ended up lowering them again.

 _Oh boy,_ she thought. _If looks could kill..._

“Are you quite finished, Miss Doe?” he asked in a low, dangerous-sounding hiss.

Jane shuddered and pressed her thighs tightly together, trying not to picture him in leather pants. “Um,” she squeaked. “Yes!” She blinked hard, attempting to rid herself of the mental image. _That’s it!_ she thought to herself. _No more apple juice before bed!_

Giving her one last heated glare—the threatening kind, unfortunately—Hunt turned back to face the rest of the class. “Seeing that we’re almost out of time,” he said, glancing at his watch, “remember that you only have a single week to finish the assignment.” He turned his glare back in Jane’s direction. “Those that do not hand it by the deadline will receive a failing grade.” Eyes narrowing, he added, “No exceptions.”

She blinked. “What assignment?” Jane whispered in an almost horrified tone.

His eyebrow arched. “You have the audacity to ask me that?”

Jane winced. She definitely preferred dream Hunt over this particular version even if dream Hunt was too sweet for liking. _No more apple juice,_ she reminded herself. It was throwing her entire day off the loop.

“Class dismissed,” Hunt concluded, still glaring at her. “And Jane, stay. I want a word with you.”

Whimpering pathetically, she let her forehead drop onto the desk with a dull _thud_ as the rest of her classmates packed up and began making their way towards the exit. Some even had the nerve to pat her softly on the back as if it was some kind of silent encouragement. All she wanted to do was go back to bed, was that too much to ask for?

“Damn,” a diva behind her swore. “Is it too late to change my bet now?” Jane lifted her head and tossed a glare over her shoulder but he only smirked amusingly in response. “Good luck, darling,” he whispered into her ear as he walked by.

Jane pouted, waiting patiently as the rest of the class filed out of the room. She made sure not to look over in Hunt’s direction; she could practically feel him trying to glare her to death. Even when the last of the students finally left the room and she could hear Hunt’s footsteps fast approaching her, Jane kept her gaze locked firmly on the exit.

“Jane.”

He did _not_ sound happy.

She turned her head slowly. “Professor?” she asked as causally as she could manage and mentally chanted to herself, _He is not half naked. He is not wearing leather pants. His voice does not sound like liquid sex. He is not half naked..._

Hunt frowned. “Are you still half asleep?”

“No,” she answered and unable to help herself, also added, “But I would like to go _back_ to sleep.”

His eyes narrowed but his expression seemed more worried than it did angry. “Did you happen to stay up all night finishing your paper again?”

She squeaked, bringing her hands up in front of her in horror. “There was a paper due today?” she demanded in a high-pitched tone.

Hunt raised a mocking eyebrow.

 _“Oh!”_ she exclaimed in anger. “You—you utter ass—”

“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence.”

Jane huffed angrily, crossing her arms out in front of her chest. “Am I done here, professor?” she asked in short, clipped tones.

The near playful light in his eyes immediately disappeared at her words. As if just remembering exactly where he was again, Hunt took a deep breath and straightened up, his entire demeanor changing. He cleared his throat and said, “What you did earlier was _completely_ inappropriate.”

Jane winced. “Yes, I know.” It was a good thing their banter was well-known throughout the entire campus; she shuddered to think at the consequences if it hadn’t been. “I’m sorry.”

Her passive and submissive behavior seemed to further confuse him as he shot her puzzled look. “Right,” he said slowly. “Anyway, you’re not a liar, Jane and I would hate to think you start just to annoy—”

“It wasn’t a lie, Professor.”

“I don’t ca—oh?” He froze, “Oh.”

 _Finally,_ Jane thought, feeling like herself again. Who was she if she couldn’t get under his skin? She stepped around her desk and slowly made her way towards him. Making sure that his gaze remained on her, Jane leaned closer towards him until her lips was directly over his ear. “Next time,” she whispered, delighting in the way he shivered as her breath washed over his sensitive skin. “Don’t wake me up.”

Hunt squeezed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath. “Jane, not here,” he mumbled.

She huffed and stepped backwards. “Right, of course,” she responded, reaching over to grab her things off the desk. “I forgot you’re less awesome in real life.”

His eyebrow twitched.

“See ya,” she said, walking past him.

“Jane.”

She paused, turning to face him again. “Hmm?”

“Get some sleep tonight.”

Her lips quirked and Jane felt a warm sort of feeling in the pit of her stomach, realizing that he was worried about her odd behavior. For someone with such a sharp tongue, he showed his concern in the sweetest of ways; not wanting to downright admit it but still unable to help himself. “I will,” she told him. And then: “It’s not the sleep that’s the issue,” she grumbled underneath her breath. “It’s the apple juice.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Fun Fact: Drinking apple juice right before you go to sleep can cause some seriously vivid dreams!**
> 
> **At first I wanted to do the whole, “the character and the readers didn’t know it was a dream” but it had been done so many times in various fandoms, I decided not to. For those interested in lucid dreaming: you can actually condition yourself to do it, which is what I did. I began by keeping a dream journal but it took months and months of writing in it. You should do your own research, it’s actually very interesting!**


End file.
